


Merope's Grace

by beestung2025



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestung2025/pseuds/beestung2025
Summary: If Merope Gaunt had the strength of Hermione Granger, what would her life have been like? A tale in 4 parts.M for scenes of Domestic Violence in Part 2*sporadic updates as this is an older work I’m returning back to—the lady Muses are being very fickle on what gets inspiration and when.





	1. Prologue

 

Chronos, a man who was time itself, nervously watched the magnification from the fabric of time he conjured in front of him. His sister, Fate, tutted nearby as her three personas spun and wove the tapestry that became the time that her brother ruled.

“Sister-mine, I dislike these wars amongst the wizards of Britain. There is one girl who has become part of me with those silly hourglasses they use— she could remake it all.” Chronos sighed from his throne.

“Brother dear, are you planning to make more work for me? Or will you allow Chaos to pick up the slack?” Fate asked, annoyed.

“Tell me you are satisfied with the outcome and I will say no more.” Chronos said with steel in his voice.

“You are right, I dislike the amount of threads snipped before their true ends. I dislike how it is throwing my natural order awry. Perhaps our dear sister Chaos was wrong in creating magic and the wielders of it.” Fate said with exasperation.

“I don’t think she was wrong. But I do think I know how this can be avoided. See here, Sister?” Chronos pointed to a weak thread that snapped early; the woman that gave birth to the being that was causing the vicious wars.

“How can I avoid it? The tensile strength was so weak, weaving was almost impossible.” Fate sighed.

“What if I took this girl, the one that took me into her soul when she traveled in time, and brought her in and fused them together?” Chronos pointed out a brilliant amber gold thread part of the current war saga being woven— a young woman known as ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age.’

“It is possible Brother dear, that we could start over and avoid these wars. As long as she doesn’t marry the mundane neighbor via unnatural means and bear a son she cannot guide into adulthood.” Fate pondered aloud.

“Hermione Granger is a daughter of mine, Sister. When she took me into her life and became a part of me, it was like no other magical being before. First it was to learn and then it was at the behest of another to save a human’s and a beast’s lives.” Chronos looked proud as he pointed out Hermione Granger’s achievements to his sister.

“A daughter you say, not just an usuper? I was surprised she managed to keep Sirius Black from an early death that day. I didn’t realize it was with your blessing, Brother dear.” Fate smirked, knowing how her brother had ranted about the magical beings stealing parts of him and his being when they used their time turners.

“I freely gave myself to her adventure that night, and once I saw her happiness at simply learning more. Did we ever get to enjoy simply learning? I admit to spying on the lessons with that hourglass. She was happy, and it was radiant.” Chronos admitted sheepishly.

“I believe you Brother dear.” Fate said softly. “I oft watch her myself. She has saved the two closest twined with her school years many, many times for no reason other than their camaraderie. Like you do with me, every day. The maid, the matron and the crone are your creations, and since you created them, my work is much easier to manage.” Fate went to her brother and kissed his cheek.

“The question is, when to pull her here so we can place her with Merope Gaunt.” Chronos sighed again.

“She is in the midst of fighting the last battle— when the battle ends, she will decline happily into married life, children and a successful career in their Ministry. But if you need her fighting spirit, pull her now. She is the warrior you need, with the compassion to make this endeavor a success.” Fate supplied, walking over to the three personas, grabbing the brilliant amber gold thread and tugging on it so hard the weaving unraveled.

“Brother dear, your mortal witch of a daughter.” Fate bowed her head as she handed the silken skien to Chronos. He threw it in the air and with a flick of his wrist, Hermione Granger stood out of breath and looking worse for wear, wand drawn.

“What? Who—?” Hermione took in her surroundings and faltered. “Where am I? Did… did I die?” Her amber gold eyes looked apprehensively up at Chronos in his throne.

“No, Daughter-mine, you have not died. I pulled you from battle for a higher purpose.” Chronos smiled, happy to see the witch again, and how lovely she’d become as she flourished into a woman.

“Daughter? Higher Purpose? Explain.” Hermione crossed her arms expectantly, and Chronos laughed, a deep, rich tone.

“I am Chronos. I am time itself. This is my sister Fate. You became part of me when you changed time, used what do you call them, a time turner? You proved yourself worthy to be my daughter by saving Sirius Black to die at his destined death.”

“We have watched you, Hermione Granger. You have grown into a formidable witch both in battle and in love. We are distraught over the wars that have been fought. They were not destined to happen. Tom Marvolo Riddle was not destined to live. Our sister Chaos and the magic she gave your people saved him, and he became an abomination. Most magic wielders are not so difficult, do not misunderstand me, Hermione Granger. But it does cause some… knots… in my work at times.” Fate smiled kindly at Hermione.

“What is it that you want me to do? We were just about to win the battle!” Hermione cried out, frustrated.

“I want you, Daughter-mine, to help Merope Gaunt. I want you to be her grace, to guide her and help her lead a better life.” Chronos steepled his fingers, sitting up straighter.

“She was too weak for the weave she was in. We will remake the fabric of time if you will help her, preventing the wars. She cannot die before her appointed time. She must have morals that her father and brother do not teach her. Her mother reaches her destined end early in Merope’s life. Merope Gaunt needs your strength Hermione Granger. She needs a warrior, but someone with compassion.” Fate had picked up where her brother left off.

“You are free to choose, daughter-mine. I will not force you to live Merope’s life to strengthen her thread. My sister and I only ask that you consider bonding to Merope’s life-force giving her the grace she needs to survive childhood. You both share similar qualities— smart and compassionate, but she lacks your strength and conviction.” Chronos continued.

Hermione looked thoughtful for moment.

“Will I remember any of my old life?” Hermione asked, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable.

“I can give to you in dreams, but you would need to fully bond with her during her lifetime. You would be one being with her.” Chronos responded.

“And if I do this, there would be no Voldemort, no first and second wars?” Hermione clarified.

“We believe that with you, Merope Gaunt will never deceive Tom Riddle with a love potion or conceive a child with him. There would be no Voldemort or Wizarding Wars. We believe that Merope’s progeny will help end blood prejudice without violence.” Fate answered.

“Will I die… in my own timeline? If I do this?” Hermione asked quietly.

“No, daughter-mine. You would not die, that time would stop existing as it is rewoven.” Chronos smiled.

“And no one would know if or when the fabric of time reweaves itself due to your guidance. It will have always happened, and will reflect seamlessly throughout. I know what I am doing, unlike usurpers to Chronos who try to steal time for themselves and their own desires.” Fate bowed her head.

“I must do what my heart tells me is the right thing— I will help this woman. I must end the wars before they begin” Hermione answered resolutely, but with a sad note in her voice. Chronos grinned and Fate lifted her face to smile at Hermione then her brother.

Chronos clapped his hands and Hermione again was the brilliant amber gold thread that Fate had brought over. Chronos walked with Fate to the fabric of time, and deftly unraveled the weaving to the point where Merope Gaunt’s weak thread was about to join the rest. Fate cradled the thread, reattaching it to where it had broken off from it’s original skein, when it had broken too early. She then deftly twined in the amber gold of Hermione Granger’s thread, bonding them together into a new thread, significantly stronger together than either were apart. 

“Brother dear, I believe this is what we were missing before. This will be the woman to revive the Houses of Gaunt and Slytherin, prevent the fall of many old and respected lines, and she will help end the blood prejudice that viciously ended too many lives too early for far too long. I must now attend to my threads, and get them ready for reweaving.” Fate smiled as she placed Merope Gaunt’s new, stronger thread into place in the weaving, and gathered up the newly unwoven threads for sorting with her Maiden and Matron personas, as they began reattaching threads ended too soon, as well as sorting when different skeins of threads would be introduced.

“I will keep watch, Sister-mine. I always do.” Chronos smiled as his sister submerged herself in work that would keep her busy for decades to come as their plan lived a lifetime to rework the fabric into a more suitable solution than the vicious and bloody wars wrought by Voldemort.

 

 


	2. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merope's Early Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvolo Gaunt was a violent man. He is a domestic abuser in this story. This part contains scenes of it and will be the only part that contains it.

Merope Maia Gaunt was born on September 19th, 1907. Her mother, Rionach, was a frail witch; decades of intermarrying within the cousins related to the Gaunt family had led to both of Rionach’s children, Merope and Morfin, having eyes that looked in other directions. The midwife sighed as she placed Merope on her mother’s breast.

“A wee little girl, but the most precious color of her eyes. What a lovely amber gold.” The midwife straightened up and wiped Rionach’s brow with a cool cloth. “There now, such a lovely daughter to have brought into the world and the Gaunt family.”

“Merope… oh your eyes. Where did you get that color?” Rionach cooed at her newborn daughter who seemingly looked right at her with her stray eyes, and hissed in parseltongue, the language of snakes.

“Mother, mother, mother!” Merope hissed, swaddled in her blanket in her mother’s arms.

“Ah, the Gaunt gift. It’s becoming quite rare. I’m so honored to have helped you birth two parselmouths, m’lady.” The midwife smiled.

“Liza, I’m no one’s lady. Those days of the Gaunts have passed. Thank you for your troubles. There’s a bag—“

“No, m’lady. I helped your mother with you and now I help you. All I ask is that I live to help your daughter.” The midwife smiled, not wanting to take money that the family desperately needed. She also didn’t say that Rionach’s mother had paid for and secured loyalty to the female line of Gaunts when Rionach was born. Rionach’s mother hadn’t liked her nephew Marvolo much, but the match for them was made as soon as Rionach was born. Rionach’s mother decided to secure the continuance of the line in ways that males would not think of. The females were just as much descended from Salazar Slytherin as the males.

“You are too good to me Liza.” Rionach settled back into the bed. “You can let Marvolo and Morfin back in now, if they promise to be quiet. It looks like little Merope has fallen asleep. The midwife nodded and Marvolo strode in and towered over Rionach in the bed with Merope in her arms. Marvolo reached out and stroked the dark curls hair on the baby’s head, and Merope opened her amber gold eyes. Marvolo sneered and pulled back his hand.

“She has the same problem with her eyes as Morfin.” Marvolo said flatly.

“And what Gaunt has had that color of eyes? Have you been faithful, wife?” Marvolo spat venomously at his wife. Rionach looked at him with tired eyes.

“Yes my husband, our fidelity charms ensure it. She is as pure as Salazar himself.” She responded. The newborn hissed faintly as she stared at her father, drawing a smile from Marvolo.

“Hello, little one, my hatchling Merope. I am your father.” Marvolo hissed back in parseltongue. He touched a finger to his daughter’s cheek.

“Father” Merope hissed back, as she fell back to sleep.

“She’s speaking earlier that Morfin. It was days before he stopped yelling.” Rionach smiled at her daughter.

“Aye, she is. Shame about her eyes.” Marvolo shook his head.

“We could get them fixed at Saint Mungo’s in London—“ Rionach began but Marvolo cut her off.

“No! I will not have rumors spread about how the House of Gaunt has fallen.” Marvolo hissed.

“The line must continue and if their eyes were fixed by healers—“

“I said NO.” Marvolo hissed at his wife. They didn’t have the money for such healing anyways, though he didn’t know that the midwife had refused payment from Rionach for Morfin and Merope. It was enough for at least one of them to get their eyes fixed. Rionach decided right then that she would hide the money for little Merope, bring her up as best she could and get her eyes fixed so she could marry easily. Any number of well to do families like the Blacks or the Malfoys would want an heir to the Slytherin line in their family. And without the oddity of her eyes pointing in other directions, little Merope was beautiful.

“I WANT TO SEE THE HATCHLING!” Mofin hissed as loudly as he could, running in with the midwife rushing after him.

“Morfin! Hush! Merope is sleeping and your mother must rest too. You may come over quietly and look.” Marvolo said sternly to his young son who remained defiant but quiet. Eventually the 7 year old boy set his mouth firmly and walked over to the bed and looked over at his mother and his new baby sister. A baby sister he did not want.

Suddenly, Merope started wailing loudly  and her little body tossed as she was hit by Morfin’s burst of untrained magic.

“Boy! What did I tell you?” Marvolo hissed and smacked his son across the face. “Control your magic before it controls you. You are a Gaunt and are better than the filth that cannot control themselves.”

Rionach soothed Merope. “Just a little stinging hex, my love. Sleep now, rest hatchling.” Rionach hissed and refused to make eye contact with her son or her husband.

* * *

 

“Mummy, why are we different from everyone else near us?” 4 year old Merope asked on a walk with Rionach.

“My darling, we have magic. Muggles have been moving into the land near us. Our family has always lived on this land, but the muggles move closer every year. We must be careful not to show them any magic. They fear it and end up hurting us.” Rionach said, smiling at her daughter. The frail witch had never been the same since Merope’s birth, but willed herself to keep going for her daughter’s sake.

“Will Morfin go to Hogwarts this year? That’s what Salazar Slytherin did, found Hogwarts?” Merope asked her mother.

“Aren’t you just full of questions! No, I don’t think your father will let Morfin go.” Rionach’s mouth tilted downwards slightly.

“Mummy, may I hold your wand?” Merope looked pleadingly at her mother, her eyes still looking in opposite directions, but the beautiful amber gold making them entrancing.

“Yes, my love.” Rionach smiled and let her daughter hold the only wand she’d ever owned, one that she’d taken the best of care of because she knew there wouldn’t be money for another without having to take in extra washing.

“Mummy, mummy, look what I can do!” Merope waved the wand happily and green sparks came shooting out.

“With training and practice, my love, you will be a strong witch.” Rionach said. “But we must be careful to control our magic. Especially around your father. Let us read now. Do you want to read more of Hogwarts, A History my love?” Rionach picked out a comfortable sunny spot to sit with her daughter in her lap, and Rionach continued to teach her daughter to read, and read the more difficult passages.

“Mummy, I want to brew potions. When I go to Hogwarts, I will be the best at Potions!” Merope said happily.

“Hatchling, I will do everything in my power to make sure you go no matter what your father says.” Rionach hissed softly into Merope’s dark, silky curls. Two days later, Rionach took a glamoured Merope to venerated halls of Saint Mungo’s. Using money she’d scrimped and saved from extra washing, and personal savings from her mother that she hid from her husband, Rionach secured a private healer to attend to her daughter’s eyes and a wand oath not to speak of it to anyone. When they left less than two hours later, Merope was excited to be taken to Flourish and Blott’s in Diagon Alley to look at books as a treat after the healer had to hurt her eyes to ‘make them look more like mummy’s.’ Merope was thrilled when her mother found a potions book they could read together and practice simple brewing, as well as stopping by the apothecary for supplies. They were stopped by several people who had known Rionach’s mother, and were happy to see the Ladies of the House of Gaunt out. The elder Lord Malfoy made quite the impression on Merope by formally greeting her after her mother and kissing her hand, which made her giggle profusely.

The two arrived home all smiles to an angry Morfin and angrier Marvolo. Rionach quickly shooed her children outside to play, seeing the dark look on her husband’s face. She would face his wrath herself. Marvolo caught Merope’s chin before she could leave.

“I said NO. YOU WENT AGAINST ME AND BEHIND MY BACK.” Marvolo shouted at Rionach and shoved little Merope away.

“She needs to be presentable for marriage. The line must continue. I did what I needed to” Rionach stood firmly and tried to draw her husband’s ire onto herself.

“You fixed the stupid squib’s eyes but not Mofin, who displays magic all the time!?” Marvolo exploded.

“Morfin has no control!” Rionach retorted and regretted it instantly as Marvolo’s eyes darkened in anger. He slapped his wife before pushing her against the wall. Merope stood scared in the corner, watching another beating unfold.

“And the filthy squib does? She’s got no magic, when are you going to remember that?” Marvolo sneered, striking his wife again and again.

“She will fetch a good bride price. She is beautiful, and she is of the Houses Gaunt and Slytherin—“

“Bride price?! For a squib?” Marvolo’s fists fell harder on his wife who cried out in pain and anguish.

“No one knew about her eyes, just the healer and he gave a wand oath not to tell.” Rionach cried. “I glamoured her on our way in.”

“And where did you get the money for a private healer, wife? Did you whore yourself out to those filthy muggles?”

“No! The Fidelity Clause! I couldn’t and wouldn’t! I’ve been saving and taking in extra washing. I’ve wanted this since Merope was born.” Rionach’s cries hit a fevered pitch and she sank to the floor under the blows. A rustle from the corner drew her eye, and there was Merope, holding her mother’s wand, amber gold eyes gleaming more than ever.

“Hatchling no!” Rionach hissed in terror as her young daughter raised a wand against her father. Marvolo, distracted, turned around to see Merope. He laughed bitterly.

“Filthy stupid squib, what will you even be able to do with that? You’re no better than a muggle.” Marvolo snarled at his daughter, lunging at her. Merope, terrified, slashed the wand defensively in front of her.

“NO! STOP!” She screamed, and was surprised as her mother and father when Marvolo was lifted up off his feet, floating a few feet off the ground.

“Don’t hurt mummy! Mummy didn’t do anything wrong! My eyes are perfect, everyone at the bookshop and Diagon Alley said so! They said they were happy to see the ladies of the House of Gaunt! Lord Malfoy kissed my hand!” Merope started crying, her perfect day with her mother marred by her hateful father.

“Merope, put me down. You must control your magic.” Marvolo said slowly.

“Hatchling, do not raise a wand to your father. Let him go. Will it.” Rionach whispered hoarsely from the floor.

Nervously Merope repeated the action with the wand and her father gently came back to the floor. He advanced on her, snatching the wand from her hand, before slapping her.

“Never raise a wand against me, child.” Marvolo said coldly before turning to Rionach.

“A Bride price you say? How much do you think we can get for her?” Marvolo squatted near his beaten and bloody wife.

“Quite a lot. Her eyes are now her best feature.” Rionach whispered. Marvolo though about this, throwing a look at the abashed Merope still standing there.

“Let’s get you into bed with a potion or two.” Marvolo slipped Rionach’s wand into his pocket, and pulled out his wand, before levitating his wife to their bed, where he tended to her carefully. Merope helped dutifully, as she frequently did after Marvolo’s temper ‘got away from him’ as he would later say.

Merope’s mother passed a few weeks after her 8th birthday. Rionach’s health was always fragile, and a decades of abuse at her husband’s hands only served to speed it up. Rionach was buried in the traditional Gaunt graveyard by the old Manor house, that had been sold to a Muggle family two generations back as more and more land and fortune was sold off from the Gaunt’s once vast holdings and fortune. The muggle family’s son, Thomas Riddle, peered curiously at the odd family that lived down the lane from him. While tear stained and red from crying, he found Merope’s eyes most captivating.

Merope was expected to, and did, take over the household chores, cleaning and cooking, as well as the washing that her mother had taken in for income, which Merope had hoped to switch over to potion making as she seemed to have an innate talent for brewing. She was working on some of her own recipes, one that was based off of a muggle rhyme she simply couldn’t get out of her head after hearing it in the nearby town of Little Hangleton. “Snips and snails and puppy dog tails/ That’s what little boys are made of” sounded very much like potions ingredients to her, but fertility potions were not yet on 8 year old Merope’s mind. Instead, she made large amounts of easy to sell potions— ones that the apothecary or the midwife that was friends with her mother’s family and always checked in on Merope would happily buy; a headache potion and the new version of pepper-up potion that was very popular.

It was a bit tricky for Merope at first, but with practice and focus, Merope’s talent was obvious. The shop keeper at the apothecary assumed that the young Miss Gaunt ran the errands to sell her father’s potions and she never bothered to correct him. Merope saved up every sickle she made, with the hopes that she’d have enough money for school supplies when her time for Hogwarts came. Though she was considerably nervous as she had no memory of Morfin ever getting a letter on his 11th birthday as described in Hogwarts, A History, her favorite book aside from the potions books she inherited from her mother (along with a small, secret bag of galleons for her school supplies and her wand until Merope would be able to buy her own). A month before her 11th birthday, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

When her father was at work for the day and Morfin out, Merope dug through her mother’s old chest. She found a set of lovely day robes packed in tissue that had a note from Merope’s grandmother to her mother tucked inside. Merope had never seen her mother wear such nice things, but thought that it was probably best; her father hated Rionach’s mother and probably Rionach as well. They were too big, but focusing on a charm she’d been practicing on with some of the wash she took in when she trained with and then took over from her mother; Merope used a shrinking charm and a few minor alteration spells to make them fit her. A high necked blouse and long walking skirt found in the trunk were treated similarly. After dressing, Merope went to a pond nearby to braid her hair and pin it up so it looked nice. More than once, Merope wished that they had a mirror or a water closet, but she would not approach father about finances ever. She’d witnessed too many beatings of her mother to make that mistake. As she was finishing pinning her dark curls up into a fashionable style, with braid at her crown, a voice called out to her.

“Hello! Aren’t you the girl from down the lane?” a boy’s voice asked. Merope looked up, mortified that she hadn’t even noticed the muggle boy fishing. And not just any muggle boy, but the one that now lived in her family’s ancestral home.

“Yes.” Merope cast her eyes down.

“My name is Thomas, Thomas Riddle. What’s your name?” The boy came over and sat by her, dragging his fishing rod.

“Merope Gaunt. You know, you’ll never catch any fish if you keep moving your line.” Merope answered, the hint of a know-it-all slipping through her shyness.

“I’m no good at it anyways. I just thought I’d try it. The other boys talk about it sometimes.” Thomas answered.

“Oh. My brother Morfin fishes for our family. When I was little I was allowed to go with him.” Merope smiled and looked down again.

“That sounds like lots of fun!” Thomas answered exuberantly.

“It’s a very quiet activity. And you have to be very still, like a snake.” Merope smiled, recalling some of Morfin’s kinder words.

“Snakes, ugh. I don’t like snakes.” Thomas answered shuddering.

“Well maybe they don’t like you either! Snakes are very nice creatures.” Merope looked hurt and Thomas felt slightly guilty.

“Maybe I just need to meet the right one.” Thomas smiled. He was truly a beautiful child, with coal black hair that was slicked back, and dark, brooding eyes. His features were like that of a Greek statue.

“There’s one right over here, sunning itself. Maybe you’d like to meet it?” Merope asked hopefully.

“I, uh. Yes?” Thomas looked a bit scared but didn’t want to show his fear to the pretty girl who seemed fearless to him. Something his father was always yelling at him about, about not showing fear and being a man.

Merope stood up and walked to a nearby rock, and hissed so softly that Thomas couldn’t hear. “Hello little one, would you be kind enough to ride on my hand?” Out of sight from Thomas, the snake nodded and Merope gently scooped it up and brought it back over.

“See? It’s just a garden snake. Nothing to be afraid of.” Merope grinned. Thomas looked a bit unsure but nodded.

“You could try petting it on it’s nose, in the direction of the scales, they like that.”

“Do you play with snakes often?” Thomas asked curiously.

“It’s a gift. They just seem to like me.” Merope said enigmatically, as the snake contentedly lay in her hand while Thomas stroked it tentatively.

“Well, I really must be off— It was lovely to meet you Thomas. I hope you catch lots of fish!” Merope stood again and Thomas waved her off.

“Thank you little one. Would you like to come with me? I’m going to Hogwarts to speak with the Headmaster.” Merope asked the little green snake, no more than a foot long.

“Yesss, Misstress. Keep me close, you are so warm.” The snake answered her. Merope giggled.

“How about I fit you in my hair, and then you can stay warm and I can have my hands free?”

“I’m happy were it is warm”

Merope helped the snake curl itself into a coronet, and asked politely if it would mind terribly putting the end of it’s tail it it’s mouth, for the symbol of Ouroboros, only to be told that the little snake would be honored to look like Ouroboros. Feeling like a queen now, Merope grabbed her light traveling cloak, pocketed the galleons from her savings, and her mother’s wand. With a pinch of floo powder, Merope was brushing herself off in Hogsmeade. She walked purposefully towards the school, and was surprised to find that the shut gate yielded to her touch. Merope could feel the magic in them, tingling and pulsing, almost in a very happy hello and welcome. Merope continued her walk to the giant front doors, before knocking tentatively, which somehow ended up sounding much louder than her small hand could have managed. Merope waited barely a minute before the door was pulled open by a house elf.

“Is young miss lost?” squeaked the elf, looking at the girl curiously.

“Oh no, I am actually looking for the Headmaster. My name is Merope Gaunt, and I want to enroll.” Merope blushed and looked at her toes.

“Milly, is someone at the door? I was on the second floor when— Oh hello there.” A thirty something year old wizard with purple robes and long auburn hair greeted her.

“Hello, sir. My name is Merope Gaunt, and I’d like to enroll at Hogwarts, sir.” Merope looked up from her toes to see the man smiling at her, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Goodness me, child, do come in. We send out letters—“ the wizard began but Merope cut him off.

“If it’s all the same, I would like to speak with the Headmaster. I want to be sure that my letter doesn’t go missing.” Merope said resolutely, remembering how her mother would speak when she needed something done.

“Well, there can’t be any harm in it— it is still the summer holiday. Headmaster Dippet is a busy man, but we can see if he has a moment.” The auburn wizard smiled at her.

“I’m Professor Dumbledore; I help teach Transfiguration. If you would follow me, I will lead you to the headmaster’s office.” Professor Dumbledore gave a small bow and Merope followed him through the maze of hallways and staircases. She trailed her fingers on the stone walls, marveling at the magic— the same magic from the gate— that seemed to be greeting her.

“Miss Gaunt? Are you alright?” Professor Dumbledore looked concerned at the far-away look Merope got as she moved through the castle, fingers trailing the walls, like a sleep walker. Her amber-gold eyes snapped to attention on him.

“Is the castle always this lively? The magic is so welcoming.” Merope smiled shyly.

“Come again? I’m not sure what you mean.” The professor looking at Merope, intrigued.

“Here, place your hand on the wall and just feel.” Merope motioned and did the same.

“Ah yes, I can feel the ambient magic, though it is a little more active that usual…” Professor Dumbledore trailed off, then jumped when Merope touched his hand to get his attention. The spike in magic was palpable.

“Is that what you’ve been feeling? That’s astounding. And very curious!” Professor Dumbledore rambled on as they made their way to the Headmaster’s office.

“All my life I’ve dreamed of coming here. My family is the last of the direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin.” Merope blushed and looked at her feet again.

“A true heir uniting with Hogwarts. Well, that’s something for the history books! I’ve never experienced the castle’s magic like that. I’ve spent only a couple decades here, but I always learn something new about this castle every day, it seems.” Professor Dumbledore smiled as they stopped at a stone gargoyle, before giving the password ‘Vertias’

“Wait just a moment while I see if he has a moment to see you.” Professor Dumbledore said, before climbing the moving staircase in front of them. Again, Merope hardly had to wait before Dumbledore bid her to come up the stairs.

“Armando, this young lady knocked on the front doors. I believe the gates yielded at her touch. She is Miss Merope Gaunt, and wanted to discuss her enrollment.” Professor Dumbledore addressed a large, balding man sitting behind a desk filled with stacks of parchment. Merope looked around the room and found herself being studied by the portraits on the wall, ones like she’d glimpsed downstairs as she was taken to the office but hadn’t had the chance to really observe. They seemed to be whispering to each other.

“Miss Gaunt, this is Headmaster Dippet. He said he would be glad to see you.” Professor Dumbledore bowed and let himself out.

Headmaster Dippet waved a hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Do take a seat. Now what can I do for you Miss Gaunt?”

“Thank you for seeing me without notice, sir. I— I wanted to be sure that next month I would be receiving my letter. My mother said that I should have been enrolled since birth, but I don’t remember my brother Morfin ever getting a letter—“ Merope began, speaking quickly and fidgeting.

“Hmm, Gaunt, yes? Dear me, let me look.” Headmaster Dippet riffled through parchments in one of the desk drawers.

“It says here that your brother decided to be home schooled.” Headmaster Dippet smiled up at her from the parchment.

“I think my father replied for him. Morfin was displeased.” Merope shuddered slightly remembering the tantrums he’d thrown for weeks.

“And you want to be sure that does not happen to you, Miss Gaunt?” Headmaster Dippet looked at her kindly.

“Yes sir. My birthday is Sept 19th. I figure I would start next year, not this coming year. But I’ll be able to save up for the tuition and any other costs—“ Merope was cut off by one of the portraits.

“Not to worry about, Miss Gaunt. I never thought I’d see any of the Gaunts again in these halls; I figured your mother, Rionach, would be the last. Your father Marvolo studied from his father, though your mother’s line preferred to be Hogwarts educated.” A portrait of severe looking witch with red hair and very frilly ruffled collared interrupted her.

“Miss Gaunt, this is a portrait of the former headmistress, Ms. Elizabeth Burke.” Headmaster Dippet introduced.

“Armando, there should be a locked file in the lower left hand drawer— Corvinus Gaunt wanted to be sure that his line would continue to be educated at Hogwarts, despite his son’s ways.” The woman in the portrait shook her head. “The boy never did learn when to give up at cards. That’d be your father’s line, girl. Your mother’s line was much more judicious, but I must say I was surprised that they finally combined the two lines. However, purer blood cannot be found. Armando, before you is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. A true heir to Slytherin, the castle’s magic is positively grating on my nerves it is so enthusiastic.”

The Headmaster located a locked file box in the specified drawer and looked dumbfounded.

“Well Miss Gaunt, this letter clearly indicates that any descendant of Corvinus Gaunt is entitled to pull from these funds for their schooling and supplies here at Hogwarts.” The Headmaster read. Merope flushed with both delight and embarrassment to be taking charity, one of her father’s rants on accepting charity ringing in her ears.

“Thank you Headmaster Dippet. Thank you Ms Burke.” Merope bowed her head. A soft hissing reached her ears. She hissed back just as softly, missing the amazed looks she was getting from the headmaster and the portraits. Merope gentle lifted the little snake from her hair where he’d been posing as her coronet, and petted him on the nose, before slipping the small snake into her pocket.

“So it’s true, the Gaunt line are still parselmouths, like Slytherin!” One of the portraits exclaimed.

“Did you charm it there, girl?” Another asked excitedly.

“I just asked it nicely if he wanted to come with me to Hogwarts today. I found him sunning on a rock near home and my hair was warm too, but he just said he was starting to feel a draft, so I put him in my pocket.” Merope answered shyly,

“You will be a real treat to teach, Miss Gaunt. I will be sure to deliver your letter in person, and record that you have made your wishes in person. Here, let me walk you to the gates.” The headmaster stood and led Merope out, with the portraits whispering furiously to each other behind them.

 


End file.
